Murphy:
And Shepherds we shall be For Thee my Lord, for Thee Power hath descended forth from Thy hand Our feet may swiftly carry out Thy commands. So we shall flow a river forth to Thee And teeming with souls shall it ever be. In nomine Patri, et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti.

Monsignor:
And I am reminded, on this holy day, of the sad story of Kitty Genovese. As you all may remember, a long time ago, almost thirty years ago, this poor soul cried out for help time and time again, but no person answered her calls. Though many saw, no one so much as called the police. They all just watched as Kitty was being stabbed to death in broad daylight. They watched as her assailant walked away. Now, we must all fear evil men. But there is another kind of evil which we must fear most, and that is the indifference of good men.

Connor:
[as the brothers exit the church]
I do believe the monsignor's finally got the point.

Rocco:
Yeah, n-n- Yeah. And-and they walk along the beach, they see this pot, they rub it, genie comes out. Genie says, you know, "You wish for anything you want." So, he asks, uh-uh, Mexican what-what he wants, and he goes, uh, uh, "I want, uh, all my people in America to be happy and free and in Mexico." And so, genie - Poof! And, all the spics are in Mexico. And then he asks the black guy...

Rocco:
So the genie says to the white guy, uh, um, "What's your one wish?" And the white guy goes, "You mean to tell me all the niggers and spics are out of America?" Genie goes, "Yeah." He says, "Well, um, I'll have a Coke, then."

Connor:
We haven't really got a system of deciding who, Roc. It's, uh...

Rocco:
Me! *Me*! I'm the guy! I know everyone! Their habits, who they hang out with, who they talk to! I've got phone numbers, addresses! I know who they're fucking! I know where they live! We could kill *everyone.*

Rocco:
[shouts]
Fuck it! There's so much shit that pisses me off! You guys should recruit, 'cause I'm sick and fucking tired of walking down the street, waiting for one of these crack-piping, ass-wiping, motherless lowlifes to get me!

Il Duce:
When I raise my flashing sword, and my hand takes hold on judgment, I will take vengeance upon mine enemies, and I will repay those who hate me. Oh, Lord, raise me to Thy right hand and count me among Thy saints.

Connor:
D'you know what I think is psycho, Roc? It's decent men with loving families. They go home every day after work and they turn on the news. You know what they see? They see rapists, and murderers and child molesters. They're all getting out of prison.

Murphy:
Mafiosos. Gettin' caught with twenty kilos. Gettin' out on bail the same fuckin' day.

Connor:
And everywhere, everyone thinks the same thing: that someone should just go kill those motherfuckers.

Detective Greenly:
These guys are miles away by now, but if you wanna beat your head against a wall, then here's what you're looking for: they're scared, like two little bunny rabbits. Anything in a uniform or flashing blue lights is gonna spook 'em, okay? So the only thing we can do is put a potato on a string and drag it through South Boston, "Thanks for coming out!"

Paul Smecker:
Television. Television is the explanation for this - you see this in bad television. Little assault guys creeping through the vents, coming in through the ceiling - that James Bond shit never happens in real life! Professionals don't do that!

Paul Smecker:
Oh, isn't that beautiful? All the lowlifes in quiet city Boston start dropping dead and *you* think it's unrelated! Greenly, the day I want the Boston Police to do my thinking for me, I will have a fucking tag on my toe!

Paul Smecker:
These burns indicate that they used silencers. Look at these entry and exit wounds. They're almost identical. The two bullets went in here, through the top of the skull, criss-crossed, and exited through the eyeballs. This one clue tells us three distinct facts. Number one, Duffy?

Detective Duffy:
They shot him at a downward angle... They put him on his knees?

Paul Smecker:
Stay with me, boys! What did they do to make two such identical wounds. Two men, of similar height, drop this guy down, each puts some iron to his head, and boom, that's all she freakin' wrote.

Paul Smecker:
Eh, possible, but unlikely. The angles are too extreme. A guy holding two guns to the back of your noodle is gonna shoot straight ahead. He wouldn't cock out his elbows, it makes no sense. Besides, are you telling me *one guy* came in here and killed eight men with eight extremely well-aimed shots in just a few seconds? No way. Had to be at least two.

Paul Smecker:
[Agent Smecker walks up to the first crime scene, where Chekov and his partner lay dead]
Brilliant. So now we got a huge guy theory, and a serial crusher theory. Top notch. What's your name?

Yakavetta:
The 90's are killing me. I shouldn't have done that. You're not supposed to tell a guy you're gonna kill him no more. I got to tiptoe through the tulips with these assholes. Taking all the fun out of the job.

Ivan Checkov:
[Checkov has handcuffed Connor to the toilet]
You know why I fucking come here? I come here to kill you. But now, I no think I fucking kill you. I kill your brother. Shoot him in the head.

Il Duce:
[the Saints break into Yakavettas courtroom]
You people have been chosen to reveal our existence to the world! You will witness what happens here today, and you will tell of it later. All eyes to the front.

Augustus DiStephano:
Your father and I used him three times in twenty years, only when things got totally fucked. Whenever we needed one of our own bumped off, we called this guy in. He had a thing for clipping wiseguys, but only one rule: No women, no kids. Believe me, kid, you don't want this guy unless you are one hundred percent sure you need him. He's a fucking monster.

Paul Smecker:
[enters the police station, packed with cops]
First of all, I'd like to thank whichever one of you donut-munching, barrel-assed, pud-pulling sissies leaked this to the press. That's just what we need now: some sensational story in the papers making these boys out to be superheroes, triumphing over evil. Let me squash the rumors now. These two are not heroes. They're just two ordinary men who were put in an extraordinary situation and they just happened to come out on top. Yes, nothing from our far-reaching computer system has turned up diddly on these two. All we know is what we found out from the neighbors, and the general consensus is, they're angels. But angels don't kill. And we got two bodies in the morgue that look like they've been "serial-crushed by some huge friggin' guy".

Paul Smecker:
Symbology? Now that Duffy has relinquished his "King Bonehead" crown, I see we have an heir to the throne! I'm sure the word you were looking for was "symbolism." What is the ssss-himbolism there?

Detective Greenly:
[giving his theory about the two dead Russians in the alley]
This guy takes a blunt object, fuckin', waah! Hits the guy with the bandages around his head, right? Why? 'Cause he's smart. He knows the guy with the bandages around his ass, he ain't goin' nowhere. He's goin' fuckin' nowhere.

Mackiepenny:
Our father, who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name. Thy kingdom come, Thy will be done, on Earth as it is in Heaven. Give us this day our daily bread, and forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us. And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil. For Thine is the kingdom, and the power, the glory, now and forever. Amen.